Midfield Park Massacre

We didn’t come up with the title of this post, someone at Midfield Park did. We borrowed it. Here, we’ll be peering over a security fence to a look at a huge empty lot, a former “mobile home” community with a population once counted in the hundreds. They’ve all moved away, recently, and now it’s empty streets, empty lots, streetlamps with no purpose but still lit and miscellaneous junk. The only signs of life are the frequent patrols, a multi-person on-site security team entrusted to protect all the nothingness. How odd.

Midfield Park dates from the late 1960s and there was something like a hundred and eighty units here. It’s a good size. In the early 1970s the city took over. You paid pad rental to them…couldn’t own the land underneath, just the trailer. It was mostly families that lived here, many seniors too, low income housing for many. It wasn’t one of the bad “trailer parks” as seen on TV. That’s mostly a stereotype anyway.

Then one day, in recent times, the city decided the park’s infrastructure, underground waterlines and sewers, had reached the end of their service lives. Given they ran under the units, there was little choice – everyone and everything must go so the the pipes can be removed. And once gone, the land was to be reused. Just for what hasn’t been said.

In the beginning there were plans made to built a new trailer park elsewhere in town and relocate most people there. Only, as it turned out, many trailers were too old (most date from the 1960s/1970), or in too poor condition to be moved. Big problem. The city balks and says no to it now. Some people say they never planned to follow through. Regardless, hopes are dashed.

Now what?

Let’s pay people out…here’s $20k for your troubles!

That went over well. Even the worst shape trailers generally appraised at several times that. Not pennies on the dollar, but none the less an insulting offer. Still, many take it and leave. But others don’t. Or can’t.

So it’s stand off, a mix of those not wanting to go and those that can’t afford to go, vs the municipal government and their deep, deep pockets. A legal battle ensues. It’s a back and forth – injunction this – extension that. It goes on for what seems an eternity. Lawyers on the city side squeal in delight – the longer it goes the more they make. I see a new AMG in my future! On the tenant side, lawyers work for next to nothing. You get what you pay for, or an honest attempt? Those we spoke to seem divided. Not that they had the resources to do it any different.

All the while this plays out the city turns Midfield Park into what is essentially a prison. Heck no, a gulag. Fences are erected, powerful light stands placed (even though the park had streetlights) and the endless security patrols. “Those old folks look shifty!” Just what the hell were they protecting?

Everyone’s watched, or checked, coming and going, those who lived here included. It’s textbook psychological warfare. The only thing missing, an endless loop of Wayne Newton’s “Danke Schoen” blaring out over loudspeakers twenty four seven.

And the battles goes on, but it’s a David and Goliath scenario, Star Trek’s Kobayashi Maru. Everyone knew how it would end – it’s just a matter of time. So fast forward to February 2018, it’s over. The city wins, the last people move away and their trailers bulldozed.

We visit on the last official day, the place now totally vacant the last person having left a day or two prior (one trailer, their trailer, deep inside remains, empty). Still, the patrols go on.

There’s some open gates along the back fenceline and while signs make no mention that one shouldn’t go inside, we dare not enter. The stink-eye we get when we’re seen by travelling security, when we’re on the outside, tells us no one is welcome at Midfield. We’re on a public pathway, mind you, that runs right behind the place. Opposite, the front street entrance is protected as thought a US/Mexico border crossing. Further, the looks we get suggests the cameras we carry are seen as some kind of weapon.

So we shoot over the fence (gorilla arms me) or through them.

Over there, a tattered Canadian Flag flapping in the wind as the day ends. The threadbare pennant speaks of lost dreams and the setting sun, the finality of it all. Powerful stuff.

A walk around to the front of the property, on public sidewalks, offers up little to see. There’s the Jackboots watching us like hawks again. Jesus, did we miss a turn and end in up in Area 51? This show of authoritarian force we found down right disturbing. Uncomfy, we leave.

But wait, what’s this…

On the property fence facing the noisy street, a pathetic little sign “Stop the Midfield Park Massacre”, a message directed at no one and shouted in a whisper. A final few words penned by the condemned. They already knew it was over…

Silly people, you can’t fight city hall.

As an FYI, Team BIGDoer made requests to go into the Midfield “Compound” though official channels. We were declined. Pulled the “Journalist Card”…and lost.

Keeping the controversy theme…
Rocky Mountain Raceway Park – politics.
Bassano Railway Station – dysfunction.
Lynnview Ridge – greed.

If you wish more information on what you’ve seen here, by all means contact us!

Date: February, 2018.
Location: Calgary, AB.
Article references and thanks: City of Calgary (the irony), Postmedia.

Sun sets on the Midfield Mobile Home Park, Calgary.

Everyone’s gone.

It looks and feels more a prison…

This old tattered flag.

Discards from someone’s life.

We visited on the final day.

We made requests to go inside, but had to settle for a fenceline view.

The lights are on…

“Stop the Midfield Park Massacre.”